Reason to Live
by LovingMusicLivingLoud
Summary: On August 17th, Troy Bolton was kidnapped. It's been so long since he's felt his heart beat rapidly because of her,since he's felt anything at all. Now, exactly one year later when he escapes on the verge of death, he finds his one reason to live: her.
1. Chapter 1

_The dark-haired beauty turns around, tears leaking down her gorgeous face. She shows no sign of surprise at the sight of him. He wants so badly to run to her and take her in his arms, to tell her how much he loves her. "Why did you leave me?" she whispers, her voice so weak and hurt that it pains him to hear. The gray sky above them rumbles in warning before releasing tiny drops of moisture. A man walks up, waiting in the distance. Troy can't see his face, or anything that may identify him. Gabriella turns back around, walks away from Troy towards the faceless man. Troy opens his mouth to call out her name, to plead her forgiveness, to beg for her to come back. She doesn't hear him as she walks up to the strange man. He puts his arms around her. She makes no move to return the embrace, but then again, she doesn't refuse his. Troy can see the look on her face, a look he has never seen. Her face has no emotion, but he can see the pain hidden in her eyes. At least, she thinks it's hidden. And even though Gabriella's face is perfectly clear to him, the man's face remains hidden and it is impossible to recognize him. Then Troy realizes: it doesn't matter who it is. It doesn't matter if he's one of the random guys down the street who used to check Gabriella out whenever she and Troy walked around, hand in hand. It doesn't matter if it's the guy who moved next door to Gabriella and can bake almost as well as she can. It doesn't matter if it's Chace Crawford. What matters is that the man holding her isn't him._

Troy shoots up, sweating.  
Looks around.  
Feels his heart fall for the something-th time. He's lost track of how many times his heart has broken. In fact, it surprises him that his heart still has the strength to keep him alive. At times, he wishes it wouldn't.

It's been more than a year, he's sure of that. More than a year since he held her. More than a year since he told her he loved her, and felt his heart skip a beat as she reassured him that loved him too. More than a year since he walked home after a night full of laughter with his beloved girlfriend. Laughter – it's been more than a year since he's laughed. He's not sure he remembers how.

It's also been more than a year since they took him.  
Since he was tossed carelessly into a van.  
Since he was blindfolded and gagged.  
Since he was driven to this location, which has remained unknown to him.

It's been more than a year since he felt the breeze ruffle his shaggy chestnut hair. More than a year since he felt the sun warm his entire body. More than a year since he felt his knees go weak at the sight of her.

It's been more than a year since he's felt anything but pain.

From being whipped and beaten mercilessly. From being underfed and neglected. From being taken away from his friends and family, and her.

Her.  
Her long, luscious hair. Her warm, chocolate eyes. Her dazzling smile that could weaken the knees of every male in the room. Especially his. Her dainty hands, running through his hair as they share a kiss that could've lasted forever. That should've last forever.

He wants to feel her touch him again. So badly. To feel her caress his skin as they lay in bed after making love. To feel her massage his tense muscles before a basketball game. To feel her gently wrap her arms around his neck as they slow dance in her backyard. He's so weak. The last time he had food was about a month ago. The last time he was beaten was about an hour ago. If he's gonna die, he wants to feel her one last time. He has to.

Suddenly, he notices something. Something huge. It's a chance at freedom, a chance at a reunion. It's a crack in the door.

Gathering whatever is left of his strength, he rams into the door. _Success._ It crashes onto the floor and he sprints out of the room in which he has been imprisoned for so long. He stops short near the corner. If they catch him, he's done for. To his immense relief, they have left the house – a risky move for such wanted criminals. He grabs the phone laying on the dusty counter, uses shaky fingers to press down on three significant buttons. He holds the phone up to his ear. They pick up on the first ring.

"911, what is you emergency?" the operator seems somewhat bored, half expecting the call to be from a mischievous six year-old.  
"I have the location of Emerson Bond," he manages to say, his voice raspy and almost foreign to himself.  
This catches the attention of the operator. Emerson Bond has been on FBI's Wanted List for seven years.  
"What is your name?"  
Troy ignores the question. He doesn't have time. "He is at…." He pauses. He had no idea of the address. He contemplates going outside to see the address of the house. What if they're outside? If he can get outside, he can leave, he can run. He can see her. But if they're outside, returning from whatever they set out for, he'll be killed slowly and tortuously. He bites his lip.

He'll take his chances.

He runs down the hallway, towards the front door. Grips the handle. Turns it quickly, before he can turn back. Darts outside, onto the old porch. And gasps.

The trees, the clouds, the air. It's all here. It's been so long since he was exposed to the outside world. He recognizes the area – it's a poor and run-down part of town, one he was warned to stay away from when he was young. Suddenly remembering the operator on the other line, Troy cranes his neck to look at the street name, then swivels around to ascertain the address number.

"They're at 8493 Blackbird Ave."  
"They?"  
"He and his……." What does he call the men who assisted Emerson in his abduction? His posse? "……..gang." That sounds lame, even to Troy.  
"Stay there, we are sending officials immediately." Troy is glad the operator realizes the urgency of the situation. But he will not 'stay there.' Not while he has his freedom. Taking advantage of the momentum of the moment, Troy begins to sprint down the street. That is, until his exhaustion catches up with him, about two minutes later. Months without food, harsh beatings and sleepless nights have taken a heavy toll. He staggers to a stop, when he realizes that he is in plain view of everyone. He darts behind the bushes, and continues his journey using the bushes and trees by the sidewalk as a shield. He knows where he is – about an hour away from home. By car, that is. On foot, especially with his weak conditions, he will be lucky to get there by nightfall. He stumbles along, half dead, but praying to arrive on her doorstep alive, if only for a few moments. Each hour, he feels himself getting closer to succumbing. He distantly wonders if Emerson and his crew have returned back to the house yet. And if so, how they felt to find the police waiting for them. By this time, it has to be around 9:00. Troy has been walking for more than seven hours. He glances up to look at the street sign. His vision is getting blurry and he desperately hopes to see her before he dies. He can just barely make out the words on the sign. Woodcove Drive. His tired heart trips over a beat as he registers that he is one block away from Seashell Court. From her. Through his legs scream in protest, aching and searing in pain, he pushes himself forward. He needs to make it. He _**needs**_ to.

And he does.  
He limps, he trips, stumbles and staggers, but he makes it. He stands on her doorstep, suddenly unsure. What if she's moved? What if she doesn't recognize him? What if she's moved on? The last question stings the most. He raises his hand and knocks, wincing in pain. His knuckles are bruised from all his punches and attempts at defending himself. Failed attempts, that is. No one answers. Troy's world is on the verge of shattering. He is on the verge of giving up, of succumbing to his pain and exhaustion. But an idea pops into his head – when Gabriella's mother was out on business trips, as she often was, Gabriella never answered the door after dark. Perhaps this was the case? Clinging onto this last strand of hope for dear life, Troy creeps around her house into her backyard. His arms tremble as he pulls himself up onto her balcony. Through her glass doors, he can see into her room. All the lights are off, except for the small lamp on her bedside table. There she is. His angel. She is facing away from him, her body shaking as she cries. Looking around her room, Troy sees a small calendar on her wall. Troy squints. Today is August 17th. The day he had been taken. Unable to hold back anymore, Troy pushes on the handle, only to find that it is locked. But the noise does not go undetected by Gabriella. She whips around. Troy is unsure how long his legs will be able to hold up. His little energy is diminishing rapidly. But he has done it. He has gotten here, and seen her face. Her face will be his last memory before the darkness overtakes him.

Gabriella shoots up from her bed, unsure not of the man on her balcony, but of herself. Was this a hallucination? Was she crazy, had she finally lost her sanity? Was the man outside a criminal who happened to possess a striking resemblance to her lost lover? Against the warning playing over and over in her brain, she gets up and creeps to the door.

Just as Troy collapses.

As Troy's head hits the floor, the moonlight finds his face, highlighting his features in a ghostly white.

Gabriella shrieks.

It's him.

Wrenching open the door, she flies onto the balcony and sinks to the floor by Troy.

"Troy," she sobs. His name is all she can say. His eyes slowly open. Fill with tears. There she is, by his side. "Oh, my Gabi," he chokes.

She cries.

He cries.

They lay on the balcony, desperately clinging onto each other, shaking as they cry. "Troy…"she whimpers into his neck. "Gabi….Gabi, my Gabi….." he murmurs into her hair.

The feeling is so overwhelming. To finally feel her in his arms. To finally feel her touch him. To finally feel.

Half an hour later, they are still laying on the balcony. Still crying. Still holding each other. And Troy is still alive.

When he was back in the house, or on his way here, even as he stood at her door watching her cry, Troy simply wanted to be with her before he died. And he would accept death after seeing her one last time. But that changed as he held her, crying and murmuring into her soft hair. Now Troy can't die. He can't leave her alone, after seeing her so broken. Troy Bolton needs to live.

"Food," he croaks. "Food, Gabi, please."

She removes her face from his neck and looks up at him. For a moment, his breath is taken away. She's so beautiful. She lifts herself up to properly look at him. He's lost so much weight, and his eyes look so…..dead. It dawns on her how vital nutrition and care is for him. It hits her hard, that her lover may die just hours after reuniting with her. She stands up frantically, and offers Troy a hand, which he accepts. It is only when Gabriella pulls him up that she realizes just how much weight he's lost, and it alarms her. She helps him inside and assists him onto the bed. With a slight groan, he lies down, reaching out for her. "I'll be…..," she can't finish her sentence as she chokes on her tears and rushes downstairs. Troy feels empty. He needs her in his arms. He has a burning desire to live, to be able to spend the rest of life with her. But if he is going to die, he wants her to be in his arms. He waits anxiously for her return, seconds passing by like hours. Two minutes later, she scrambles up the stairs and flies into the room, her arms full. She sweeps everything off of her bedside table, except for the lamp, and begins to lay out everything she brought : Crackers and cheese, a plastic up and a gallon of milk, a first aid kit, various other foods. She takes a glance at Troy's half-lidded eyes and her panic level increases. "Troy, baby, please stay with me. Please," she cries, begging. He turns his head to look at her. Even through her sorrow and fear, she is gorgeous. He needs to fight, for his life, for their love, for her. "Baby….," he whispers. She climbs onto the bed and helps him into a sitting position, so that he rests against the headboard. She turns to grab the foods off the table, and drops them onto the pillow beside Troy. "Please eat, Troy," she pleads. He nods and reaches for the crackers. She reaches them before he does, and opens the package for him. She then opens the cheese and offers it to him. "Troy, you need the protein….." He nods again and takes it from her. After the first few bites, Troy begins to pick up speed, wolfing down the food and finishing the entire package within three minutes. "Troy, can you take your shirt off?" she whispers gently, watching him. He reaches to remove the clothing, wincing in pain as he lifts it over his head. She gasps as she looks at his chest. It is almost completely covered in bruises and scratches. The sight incites fresh tears to drip down her cheeks. She hands him a banana and allows him scarf it down as she gets the first aid kit and begins to work on his chest, cleaning cuts and rubbing cream on bruises. One particular cut catches her attention – a deep gash on his stomach that is still bleeding. It'll need stitches. Biting her lip, she reaches for the needle and thread.

Two hours later, it is near midnight. Troy has finished all the food that Gabriella brought up, and has had all of his cuts cleaned by Gabriella. He's going to live, he's sure of it. And it's all because of her. They sit on the bed, simply staring at each other.

And then it dawns on him. It was her all along. When he was being beaten, thoughts of her helped to ease the pain. The idea of having her in his arms was the only reason he hadn't succumbed to pain. And when he had lain on her balcony, he realized he didn't want to die. And the one reason he wanted to live ended up being the one reason he did. "Oh, baby……"he croaks, fresh tears gushing down his cheeks. She whimpers and throws herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around him.  
She cries.

He cries.

They lay on the bed, desperately clinging onto each other, shaking as they cry. "Troy…"she whimpers into his neck. "Gabi….Gabi, my Gabi….." he murmurs into her hair. It is just like on the balcony, the desperation and love all the same. There is only difference: Troy is now positive that he will live. Although exhausted and still in pain, he no longer feels pure agony and knows that his strength has been replenished by his angel. For another half hour, they hold each other and sob, releasing the pain that both of them had felt over their agonizing separation. Gabriella pulls the blanket over them, enveloping them in a safe, warm world of their own. Words are not spoken; neither Troy nor Gabriella can find the energy to speak. Besides, the feeling of having the other in their arms after so much….coldness, emptiness…..is such that words are unnecessary. It's all here. Her long, luscious hair. Her warm, chocolate eyes, her dazzling smile – everything he had longed for is here in his arms. It was all he had ever needed.

And with that thought, his exhaustion finally gets the better of him and he drifts off to sleep, his angel in his arms.

Three hours later, around midnight, Gabriella awakes. She doesn't dare open her eyes, for fear that the incredible feelings she is experiencing would be part of a dream. She can feel his strong arms around her, holding her to his chest. She can feel his steady breath in hair. For the first time in a long time, she feels safe, warm, loved and….complete. Slowly, she peels her eyes open to find that Troy is already awake, staring at her lovingly. His eyes light up as she looks up at him. "Baby….,"he whispers, as he tilts his head down to capture her lips in a kiss that sets their veins on fire. She moves her hand up so that she can run her fingers through his hair. He shudders at the amazing feeling she invokes in him. When they finally pull away, they are both smiling in contentment. But Gabriella's smile slowly fades, and a faint trace of pain is threaded into her features. Troy frowns, cupping her face in concern. "What's wrong, gorgeous?" he asks gently. "What happened, Troy? Where did you go?" she whispers, desperate for answers, reasons behind her lovers disappearance. Troy bites his lip. It's a long story. It will be hard and painful to recount, and he may not be able to get through the whole thing. But she deserves to know.

So he begins.

Forty five minutes later, he is done. Both of their faces are streaked with tears. But he feels clean and fresh. Wordlessly, Gabriella sprinkles delicate kisses around his face. He closes his eyes in bliss. Finally, she rests her lips on his, not quite kissing him. "I love you, Gabriella," he mumbles into her lips. He feels them curve into a smile, and she returns the vow with a earth-shattering kiss. "I love you too," she whispers when they pull apart. "I was so afraid you were going to die," she admits, her eyes welling with tears again. He nods and dips his head down to bury his face in her neck. "Me too," he says into her warm skin, "But I couldn't leave you alone. I love you too fucking much." She nods and kisses his hair, wrapping one of her legs around his waist. He pulls away from their tangled embrace for just a moment, to strip his dirty jeans and toss them onto the floor, leaving him only in his boxers. Returning to the safety of their embrace, he tugs at her tank top, implying that he wants it off. He doesn't need sex right now, he just wants to feel her. Understanding this, she peels the tank top off, then her flannel pants, leaving her in her bra and panties. Reverting back to their earlier tangled position, they lay there in comfortable silence. Finally, Gabriella lifts her head from Troy's hair and asks, "Troy, do you want to call you parents?" He removes his face from the crook of her neck to look at her. "I'd understand if you wanted to spend time with them, it has been a year….I can drive you there if you want….."she leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for his answer. She watches as he shakes his head and buries his face back into her neck. "No," he mumbles from there, "I just wanna be with you for now." She smiles and rests her cheek on the top of his head. "It's been a whole year. One damn year away from you. I want to make up for that," he continues, pulling his face out of her neck again. "I mean, you've already changed a bit….but you're still so, so beautiful," he murmurs dreamily, stroking her cheek, "we have so much to make up for…" he says, slurring sleepily. Once again, he pushes his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. He finds himself becoming more and more love drunk, practically drowning in her love, and just barely conscious of the world outside of their warm bed. Before drifting off to sleep once more, Troy presses a kiss to the neck of his savior, his angel, his reason to live.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHORS NOTE:  
WRITING IS TRULY A PASSION FOR ME, BUT IT'S ALSO HARD WORK.  
I'VE NOTICED THAT A LOT OF PEOPLE (OVER 10) HAVE ADDED TO THIS STORY TO THEIR 'STORY ALERT'  
WHICH CONTRASTS TO THE LESS THAN 5 REVIEWS I'VE RECEIVED.  
PLEASE, REVIEW GUYS!**

A ray of sunlight streams in through a sparkling glass window, finding the face of Troy Bolton. It lingers on his features long enough to interrupt his slumber and peel open his eyelids. He glances around sleepily, not quite present in the reality world. After registering his surroundings and the events that took place the previous night, a smile weaves its way into his face. Pulling his face out of the warmth of her neck he looks up at the sleeping angel in his arms and the smile grows even wider. He allows his mind to wander back to last night. To his daring escape. His arduous journey. And the girl that made it all worth it.

He watches Gabriella, in the fascinating and beautiful state that is dreaming. When you dream, you can't hide your feelings, in fact it often in dreams that you come to terms with them. And when you wake, the dreams fade into wisps of faint thought – that is, unless the dream was either particularly horrifying or delightful. When it is a pleasant dream, you find yourself yearning for morning to be delayed. Because this dream is beautiful, wonderful, and inspirational – something you never wish to part with. But Troy Bolton doesn't need dreams, not when he has her.

She gently stirs in his arms, preparing for her transition into the real world. As she crosses into consciousness, she is aware of the warm feeling throughout her body, the way her veins seem to be filled with warm water rather than blood, and the way her heart seems to beating faster than usual. She wonders why this is happening; she hasn't had a reason to feel this content for a long time. She finally opens her eyes, looks down.

And bursts into tears.

Immediately, the smile dissolves from Troy's face, and he scoots up so that he's at the same level as Gabriella. Gently, he wipes away her tears with the pad of his thumb. He catches one tear on his finger, lifts it and closes his mouth around it. He relishes the salty taste of her liquid emotions. "Baby, what's wrong?" he asks concernedly. "You-you're real," she sobs into his neck. Understanding that she cries not out of pain but happiness and relief, he allows the smile to surface once more. Ever so gently, he pulls her face out of his neck and leans down to sprinkle her face with kisses. Her tears vaporize quickly and they lay intertwined, appreciating the fact that for the first time in a long time, they've woken up to another dream; each other.

Half an hour later find them in the kitchen. The sunlight continues to spill in through the windows, setting the whole kitchen aglow. She stands in front of the stove letting the bacon and eggs sizzle, with her back to him. She can feel his eyes on her, and she bites her lip, simply wanting him to hold her. He sits on a chair by the table watching her. The sunlight hits her head at an angle, creating a ring of light on the top of her head. _A halo_, he thinks to himself with a smile. Finally giving into the temptation that has been eating at him for the past 15 minutes; he gets up, walks over towards the stove and wraps his arms around her, hugging her from behind. She leans back into him, smiling.

When she decides the bacon and eggs are done, she slips them onto a plate. She and Troy head over to the table. He sits down on a chair and pulls her down onto his lap. They eat in silence, sharing off the plate. He decides her cooking has gotten even better since last year, something he had never considered possible. When they finish, she silently gets up to put the plate in the sink. She turns around, only to find him standing right in front her. He pulls her to his chest, and she wraps her arms around his neck. "Babe," she starts. He looks down her, his eyes inviting her to continue. "I think you should go see you parents." He furrows his eyebrows, not because he doesn't want to see his parents, but because he knows how hard it will be. Last night he was weak, exposed and emotional, crying his eyes out. This morning he feels slightly healed, almost normal, almost like the events of the past year never occurred.

Almost.

He knows that if he visits his parents, he will break down again. He'll be weak, emotional, crying his eyes out. And the events of the past year will be reinforced in his memory.  
"Troy…," she starts again, sensing his hesitation, "They're your parents, I know you missed them, and they deserve to see their son. I know it will be tough." Her voice is gently, and he is amazed at how well she can read him. He nods. "Let's go," he says his voice still raspy from lack of use for the past year; other than screams and cries. She nods, "Let's get dressed." He follows her back up the stairs.

Once back in her bedroom, she walks to her dresser, opening the top drawer. He lingers by the door, watching her. Admiring her. She pulls out a T-shirt and baggy pair of jeans. He recognizes them as his own. She turns to him, a faint blush painted on her cheeks. He finds himself grinning. There's nothing particularly amusing, he just loves her blush. "You left these at my house last year," she tells him, as he walks forward to meet her in the middle of her room. Still grinning, he takes the clothes from her, pecking her cheek in thanks. 5 minutes later, when they are dressed, they head downstairs and situate themselves in Gabriella's car.

As she drives, Troy can't decide where to look: at the streets that are so familiar, the streets he grew up on, the streets he is returning to for the first time in year. Or her. He wants so badly to watch her while she drives, attempt to fill his eyes with the sight of her until he can't see anything else. She's that beautiful. Sighing in defeat, he looks out of his window.

Only to whip his head around to stare at her 13 seconds later. It's pathetic, he knows. He doesn't care.

When they arrive at Troy's house 5 minutes later, they step slowly out of the car. Silently, Gabriella walks around the car to meet Troy and takes his hand. He grips it tightly as they near the front door. They stand there staring at the door for a minute. She raises her free hand to ring the doorbell.

Less than a minute later, the door opens to reveal Lucille Bolton. Her clothes are clean and freshly pressed, her hair has been recently done. Her nails are neatly cut, but not painted. Her appearance in general holds every aspect of a regular Albuquerque mother.

Except for her eyes.

Her eyes are bright blue; the same color as her son's. But they hold a deep, yet subtle sadness, locked away in her irises. Her eyes flash with recognition as she takes in Gabriella's appearance. "Gabriella….hi," she says, a smile on her face. She has always liked Gabriella. "Hi…..." Gabriella starts.  
What does she say?  
_'Your lost son appeared on my balcony last night and almost died'_? Too much.

'_I found Troy'_? Too little.

Unable to find words to explain her sudden visit, Gabriella simply steps aside to reveal Troy.

She recognizes him immediately. He is, after all, her son.

Her eyes water, as do his.

She steps out and throws her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. "My son…my Troy," she murmurs into his shoulder. He hugs her back, tears rolling down his own face. "Let's go inside," Gabriella says quietly. They step inside, and Lucille drags Troy over to the couch. She sits down next to him, and they continue to cry gently and hold each other. Gabriella remains standing. Jack Bolton comes thudding down the stairs, "Hey, we're low on mil-," his sentence is cut short. He takes in Gabriella standing in their living room. He takes in his wife, crying on the couch.

Then he takes in the man next to her.

"Troy?" he whispers. Troy looks up from his mothers shoulder. "Oh my god," Jack murmurs before heading over to the couch to sit on Troy's other side, allowing tears to escape his eyes, too. The family of three sits on the couch, holding each other and crying softly. Gabriella seats herself on the opposite couch, and remains silent. She doesn't want to break the family moment they have. They deserve it. Gabriella watches the touching scene with tears in her own eyes. She knows Troy loves her. She also knows that she could never replace this; his family.

And she's fine with that. She knows Troy loves his parents, and doesn't want to do anything to get in the way of that. She's glad that Troy has this family, this support system to fall back on. She wishes she had had the same.

She hears Jack ask his son what happened, where he went, why he was gone. All the questions that she had begged of him last night. She notices the silence, and looks up. Troy is staring at her, his eyes pleading. He is going to tell the story.  
And he needs her support to do it.

He reaches his arms out for her. Receiving the message, Gabriella stands up and quietly strides across the room. She reaches the couch and stands unsure; there is no more room on the couch. Troy pulls his feet off the floor and folds his legs to sit Indian style on the couch between his parents. He grabs her waist and pulls her down onto his lap. She does the same, folding her legs so that she is seated the same way he is, on his lap. She nestles back into him, shifting sideways so that her back is to Jack. Holding on to her tightly, and still crying, he begins his story. He describes the night he was walking home. The men that grabbed him, tossed him into the waiting van. The days he spent locked up. The beatings. By this time, everyone is sobbing mercilessly, especially Lucille. It reaches the point where Troy can't continue. "Gab…," he croaks into her neck. She nods and takes over the story, describing his days in the house and a hostage. Finally, the story has reached the point of Troy's daring escape. Troy's tears have reduced, and he pulls his face out of her neck, signaling her to stop. He needs to tell this part; it was the most significant part, and there are aspects that even Gabriella doesn't know. She doesn't know that he was aware of his impending death and simply needed to see her before he died. He starts again, explaining in detail how he had spent so many nights dreaming of her face, longing for her touch. Then the crack in the door, an opportunity for freedom. His painful and arduous journey. Everyone is in shock, especially Gabriella. She never knew _this_ part of the story. He continues to explain the long journey, his thoughts of her. Then he describes how he had known he was going to die and just wanted to be with her when it happened. Gabriella breaks down at this, sobbing in his arms. He goes on to tell of his fall on her balcony, the way they held each other and cried, and the way she saved him. Lucille is shocked. She had always known Troy and Gabriella were close, that they loved each other. She never knew how _**much.**_ Her son is completely and hopelessly in love. He would do anything for her. And likewise with Gabriella, in fact –it dawns on Lucille- if it wasn't for Gabriella, her son would be….dead.

She watches the way they interact. The way she curls up in his lap, with her arms around his neck. The way he holds her tightly, not afraid to cry in front of her, but afraid of letting her go.

Half an hour later, all their tears have ceased. "So…are you going to move back in today?" Lucille asks her son. He removes his face from Gabriella's neck, hesitating. He's not ready to leave her yet. "Mom….I've kinda been staying at Gabriella's."

"It's only been one night," she replies.

"Yeah, but……" He really doesn't want to leave her.

"Troy, please move back in," Lucille pleads. Her husband nods in agreement.

Troy doesn't like this. It's been a year since he got to be with her, fall asleep with her in his arms. She's the one thing that kept him going. The one thing that kept him alive. Why does his mother not want that for him? The last thought ignites a fire within him.

"Honey, let's go talk in the kitchen," Lucille says. She wants to solve this. She wants her son back.

Sighing, Troy lifts Gabriella off of his lap and walks into the kitchen with his parents.

Once inside, the debate begins.

"Troy! Why don't you want to move back in with us?" Lucille hisses.

"It's not that! It's just….I haven't had her-, she hasn't had me-, we haven't had each other for a year, Mom!" he exclaims.

"We haven't had you _either_! We're your parents, Troy!" Lucille cries, her eyes filling with tears once more.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD THIS PAST YEAR HAS BEEN FOR, TROY? _**WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!!!!," **_Jack roars.

And so the screaming match erupts.

It's not that Troy doesn't want to be with his parents. It's just that he can't be away from her.

Suddenly, a small voice interrupts the verbal war zone.

"Troy," Gabriella speaks up from the doorway. All three Boltons stop to look at her. "Troy, I think you should stay with your parents."

Troy gapes.

"But baby….,"he starts, but he's cut off by his mother.

"Gabriella, when does your mother come back?"

"Um, in about two weeks."

Lucille bites her lip. "Why don't you stay with us until she comes back?"

Troy sighs in relief, and wraps his arms around Gabriella.

His relief is short lived.

A small post-it note is taped to the window. The writing is too small for Troy to decipher from across the kitchen. But he can see the initials signed at the bottom.

_**EB**_

Those two letters are enough to freeze his blood. And his entire being freezes as it dawns on him that his parents, his girlfriend….everything he just got back, could be ripped away from him _any moment._

Three solid knock reverberate throughout the entire house.

Someone is at the door.

And that moment is approaching quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Um, okay, so I realized I didn't put a disclaimer in the first chapter (I won't get in trouble, will I?). So here it is (drumroll please…) **_**I do not own HSM, or any characters, and am not affiliated with Disney.**_** There. I think that was pretty good. Anyways, on to the story!**

The person knocks again.

_Thud thud thud._

It is almost as loud as Troy's heartbeat. Almost.

"Stay here," he whispers to his parents and Gabriella. They can take him, lock him, beat him, torture him, even kill him, but they will not touch his loved ones. He creeps to the door and opens it slightly. The others wait in the kitchen, with baited breath, unsure of the situation but afraid all the same. He pulls the door open.

This is the moment of truth.  
Or capture.

It's a police officer. He looks up from his notebook as Troy opens the door. "Troy Bolton?" he asks.

Troy nods.

"Mind if I come in?" he asks. Troy steps aside, allowing him into the house. Gabriella comes into the hallway, a tentative expression on her face. When she sees the visitor is a police officer, she relaxes. The three join Troy's parents back in the living room, with Mr. and Mrs. Bolton on the couch, Troy and Gabriella on the loveseat, and the officer on the recliner. "I'm officer Daniel Radclell," he introduces himself. In normal times, Gabby may have pointed out that his name sounded like Daniel Radcliffe, or Troy may have laughed, thinking Radclell sounded like 'radical.'

Then again, in normal times, a police officer wouldn't be seated in the living room.

"So," Radclell continues, clearing his throat, "Yesterday, we received a call yesterday providing us with the location of Emerson Bond. I think it's safe to assume that the caller was you, Mr. Bolton?" he asks, addressing Troy, who nods. "Well, you've been missing for over a year. You're a lucky man, Mr. Bolton." Troy nods again, wrapping his arm around Gabriella's waist. "We have to do some investigating, this was – and is- a serious situation," Radclell continues. "What do you mean, 'is'?" Jack asks.

It's the same question everyone has been wondering.

Radclell bites his lip. "Once we received your call, we sent officers to the scene immediately. We caught all of Emerson's men…" Troy nods, waiting for him to finish and fearing the worst. "However…we did not manage to catch Emerson himself." Lucille's hand flies up to her mouth, her eyes filling with liquid fear. Jack buries his face in his hands. Gabriella eyes go wide and her heart is ramming itself mercilessly against her ribcage. These reactions are apathetic compared to what Troy is feeling.

His entire body is paralyzed. The word 'fear' seems meager, for Troy is feeling so much more than that. He feels hate. Emerson tortured him, beating him for no reason. He feels exhaustion, on the verge of defeat. He's weak, he can't fight…he can't defend himself, or the ones he wants so badly to protect. And of course, he feels fear. Fear that the past year will repeat itself, that he'll be captured once more, ripped away from his loved ones. He can't go back there. He can almost feel the knife on his back, the foot colliding with his stomach, the taste of blood in his mouth. The memories come flooding back to him, crashing violently over him. Flashbacks play relentlessly in his mind.

He sees himself lying on the cold, cement floor, trembling.

Sees himself vomiting over and over again from his unsanitary conditions, being underfed and having no choice but to urinate in the corner.

Sees himself crying out in pain as the whip strikes his bleeding back.

Sees himself dreaming of her, only to wake up and realize he may never see her again.

Sees himself curled up in fetal position, waiting for death to take the pain away.

"Troy, _Troy,"_ Gabriella's voice pulls him out of his bitter memories, for which he is grateful. He looks up.

Everyone is watching him, with concerned eyes. He realizes he's trembling. Gabriella. He needs Gabriella. He whips his head around, looking for his angel, frantically scanning the room.

Oh.  
She's right next to him.

He wraps his arm back around her waist, trying to control his shaking. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he rests his head on her head, inhaling the sweet smell of her soft curls. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to regain composure. She reaches her hand up to run her nimble fingers through his hair, calming him immediately. "And…there's….there's more…," Radclell goes on nervously. Jack whips his head up. "What do you mean, _more?"_ he hisses. Radclell clears his throat.

"Emerson was sighted in this neighborhood."

"WHAT?!" Troy yelps. This can't be happening.

Sighing, Radclell pushes on. "We're going to have an officer patrolling the neighborhood 24/7…but still, this is a dangerous man. So be careful."

Yeah, no shit.

The room is saturated in silence, until Officer Radclell stand up, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Well, I should be leaving. An officer is on his way right now to start his shift patrolling the streets. And Troy, if you could stop by the station some time, that'd be great. We need to gather some information about the capture and all."

Actually, it's required by law for a victim to be questioned no more than five days after their return. But Officer Radclell, though he is uncomfortable and slightly awkward, is a good man. He knows Troy's been through a lot.

After Radclell leaves, the four sit in heavy silence, weighing down on them all. Jack is the first one to break through it. "Well…we should probably call Gabriella's mother…where is she? Bolivia?".

"Bombay," Gabriella murmurs quietly. She remembers everything. Where her mother is, how long she'll be there, what time she gets back. She always marks it on her calendar, and is at the airport thirty minutes before her mothers arrival, to drive her back home.

And Maria doesn't even call.

"I should call her," she says quietly. Troy bites his lip beside her. He doesn't want to let her go.

"How about I call," Lucille suggests, and Gabriella nods in thanks as Troy lets out a small sigh of relief. Jack follows his wife out of the room, leaving the two to themselves. "Hey…you okay?" she asks him, care laced into her honey voice. He pulls her into his lap, and she twists herself again, so that she is sideways in his lap. He wraps his arms tightly around her, as if afraid she might dissolve any moment. He squeezes his eyes shut, and a look of pain unfolds across his face. "I can't go back there, Gabby," he whispers. "It was so horrible." He looks like he's about to cry. "And if he gets _you_…God Gabby, I don't think I could handle that." She wraps her arms around his neck, gently pressing her lips to his cheek. "Let's just relax today. You deserve it," she murmurs in a comforting tone. "That sounds so nice," he murmurs against her luscious curls. She looks up at him, and he smiles down at her. It still blows his mind how perfect she is, and how much more perfect she continues to get. He tilts his head to meet her lips in a sweet kiss. Their lips move together until Gabriella slowly pulls away at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

"We called you mother," Jack informs Gabriella. "She's flying home today. She just booked a flight, and it leaves in about an hour. She'll get here sometime tonight," he says looking at the clock on the green wall. It's just after noon. Gabriella frowns, confused. "But her meeting doesn't end until tomorrow." She could swear that August 19th is circled in red on her calendar. And Maria has _never _left a meeting early. Not when Gabriella caught pneumonia, not even when she fell from a tree and ripped her leg open. In fact, it was Troy who sat with her while she cried in pain the hospital. Jack nods. "Apparently, the meeting actually ended two days ago. She just wanted to stay until tomorrow."

Now it's Gabriella's turn to hold back tears. How long has this been going on? Have all of Maria's meetings ended early, but she was simply spending her time on vacation, forgetting about her daughter? For almost half of the year, Gabriella was alone. She had always missed her mother, but also admired her, for being so hardworking. Was it true that her mother had simply been vacationing, getting a break from…her?

Jack, being the not quite insensitive, but not quite observant man that he is, does not note the heartbreak written across Gabriella's face. "She's taking the flight back today, to be with you." Gabriella looks up, feeling a swell of joy in her chest. This is what she's been waiting for: for her mother to come back and greet her with a hug. Ask her how school's been going, and if she needs any help studying for the upcoming English exam. For her mother to love her, to remember her. "It took a lot of persuading, though. She really didn't want to come." He frowns in disapproval, still oblivious to the pain that has resurfaced on Gabriella's face. "Well, I should go help Lucille…," he heads back down the hall to help his wife make lunch. Or rather, watch her make lunch.

Jack Bolton is not considered a master in the kitchen.

Back in the living room, Troy notices the tears dripping down his angels gorgeous face.

"Baby…," he murmurs, "What's wrong?" He has an idea of what's wrong.

"Why doesn't she love me?" she whispers, lifting her head to look at him. The desperate, devastated look sewn into her features breaks his heart. "Why am I not good enough?" Sobs wrack her frame, and she trembles in his arms. Troy tightens his grip on her, rocking her gently in his lap. "I d-do everything," she continues, her voice breaking. "I always remember when she l-leaves, when sh-she comes back, I drive t-to the airport, and _everything_. And she never even s-says _thank you."_Troy frowns. It kills him to see her so upset, so broken. He would do anything to rid her of her pain.

Gently peppering kisses on the top of her head and across her forehead, he continues to rock her back and forth. "Troy…she's b-been coming home late, j-just to vacation t-there. She's avoiding me," she continues to sob. His heart is cracking. He can feel it. Suddenly, her head shoots up from it's place buried in his neck. "Troy…," she whimpers, her deep chocolate eyes glossing over, "Her life is b-better without me." This is the final straw. She breaks down, sobbing and trembling.

And Troy's desperation reaches it's high point. It's painful, watching his angel so hurt, drenched in such intense pain. Part of him wishes that the pain was his fault – then he could make it better, destroy her pain. But now he can do nothing but hold her, murmuring sweet things in her ear.

It rips him apart, seeing the girl he loves so broken, crushed by the one person who is supposed to love her unconditionally.

It is times like these when Troy truly hates Maria Montez.

About an hour later, lunch is finished and Troy and Gabriella are back on the couch, with her back on his lap. "It's cold," she murmurs into his neck. He nods, tightening his grip on her. Lucille walks in, putting on a sweater. "Bad news," she states, biting her lip. Both Troy and Gabriella's heads snap up, their eyes wide in fear. Realizing her mistake in word choice, Lucille backtracks. "No, not that kind of bad news. It's just that it's supposed to be an especially cold night – even for August – around fifty degrees….and the heater just broke down." Troy and Gabriella relax- this 'problem' is barely a problem compared to the man who could be down the street at that very moment.

Another hour later, Jack walks in. The sky is darkening, becoming a lovely shade of deep lavender. "Alright, we're heading out now, to pick up Maria from the airport." Troy frowns, glancing at the clock. "I thought you said her flight gets here really late. It's only six." Jack nods, "But the airport is about an hour away – two, with Saturday night traffic. So we won't be back until midnight, maybe later." The two nod. Jack stops, turning around once more. "Be good," he reminds them. They're all trying so hard to act normal, pretend that a dangerous killer _isn't _less than a mile away. It's the only way to avoid paranoia. He hesitates, wanting to say something else, but for the sake of all of their sanity, decides against. But through the silence, the words '_be careful'_ hang in the air, unspoken but heard loud and clear.

"Troy?" Gabriella asks quietly from his lap, where she has been situated for quite some time. He looks at her, silently inviting her to continue. "Can we just hang out tonight?....the way we used to?" He smiles. "That sounds amazing."

Half an hour later, they are both changed, Troy in his boxers and a white beader, and Gabriella in a pair of old short-shorts that she had left in Troy's room over a year ago and one of his T-shirts. With a fire blazing in the fireplace, the room has become comfortably warm and cozy. Troy is seated on the floor, resting against the couch with his legs outstretched. Gabriella is straddling him, so that they are facing eachother. He wraps his arms around her waist. They talk for a while, laughing about light things that can't bring them down, that give them a playful happiness neither has felt in so long. He grins, feeling seventeen again (no pun intended, lol). He feels young when he's with her. He feels so many things – loving, adoring, grateful, awed and sometimes unworthy. But most of all, he feels _happy_.

Less than five minutes later, they are already in a sweet makeout session. His strong arms pull her even tighter against his chest. Her arms wrap around his neck as he lifts a hand to tangle in her hair, keeping his other arm around her waist. His warms lips dance with hers, and they both feel familiar tingles running through their bodies. Gabriella pulls away slowly, "I missed this," she says quietly, he nods in agreement. She buries her face in his neck and he leans his cheek on her hair. They sit in comfortable silence, until a light conversation begins. They don't talk about the past year, or the dangerous man waiting to capture them. For now, they simply want relish the feeling of love, and not fear.

"What's your favorite position?" she asks a few minutes later. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his face. She giggles. "Get your head out of your pants! I meant…you know, when we're just hanging out together. Not like _that."_ He smiles. "Well…I like the way we're sitting now, a lot. I also like the way we were sitting earlier, with you on my lap – but sideways so that I could still see your face…hmm I like when we're in bed, and you curl into me and we just kinda hold eachother…," she smiles at this, "I like when we're lying down and you're on top of me, or I'm on top of you…I don't know, I like all of our positions." He finishes with a grin. "Awww…," she coos, "You're sensitive," she leans down, not quite kissing her but brushing her lips with his. "Only with you," he murmurs against her lips, before capturing them with his.

Another half hour later, they stand up. "Do you wanna just sleep here?" he asks, "It will be warmer with the fire." She nods. He runs down the hall, and comes back in record timing, holding a pillow and a sleeping bag. "Just one?" she asks. "Well, yeah. We'll have to sleep really close." He frowns, wondering if she minds this. "I don't mind," she grins, wrapping her arms around his neck. Dropping the sleeping bag and the pillow, he winds his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest.  
"Good."

Soon, they are cuddled in the sleeping bag in front of the warm fire. For the first time in so long, everything feels just right. Troy scoots down to bury his face in her warm neck, opening his mouth to taste her soft skin. She throws her leg over his waist, running her fingers through his chestnut hair. "I love you Gabby…so, so much….," he murmurs into her neck, slurring slightly as sleep begins to consume him. She smiles, closing her eyes gently. "I love you too, Troy," she whispers softly. "How much?" he asks, pulling his face out of her neck to look up at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "More than anything," she reassures him, tilting her head down to peck his lips. Satisfied, he pushes his face back into the warmth of her neck, lost in bliss.

In fact, they are so lost in bliss, that they don't hear the sound of the front door opening slowly….

**I want 5 or more reviews for the next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yaayyy! More reviews, thanks guys! I put up the first chapter (well, pre-chapter) of 'In a Perfect World' and it already got reviews! Yayyy! Best Christmas present ever!!! Happy Holidays to everyone! **

The front door opens slowly, the sound remaining unknown to the two sleeping lovebirds in the living room.

Three figures tip-toe into the room, whispering quietly. Troy mumbles something in his sleep and the figures freeze. Sensing the presence of others, Troy opens his eyes slowly, peering over Gabriella's head. _**Oh, God. **_

_**They're here.**_

_**In his house.**_

_**They're going to take him.**_

_**He's going to spend the rest of his live in agony.**_

_**Without her.**_

_**Her.**_

_**OH GOD.**_

_**If they take **__**her**__**….**_

Troy can't move, his entire being is frozen. The only thing he can do is tighten his hold on Gabriella, on his life, his reason to live. She curls into him, snuggling her face into his chest, unaware of the grave events about to take place. He squeezes his eyes shut. Tomorrow morning, she's going to wake up, cold and alone. She'll wonder where he is, maybe drive around looking for him frantically. When she realizes that he's gone, truly gone, she'll break down. She'll be sobbing hysterically…broken.

And once again, he won't be there to hold her.

A single tear drips down his cheek. It was all so perfect, he had her, she had him, they had each other.

Suddenly, the lights flick on. Slowly, Troy peals his eyes open, to look up at the three figures.

Lucille, Jack, and Maria.

Thank fucking God.

Lucille's eyes wander down to the sleeping bag that holds Troy and Gabriella. Troy is breathing heavily, his thoughts submerged in relief. "Troy! Honey, I'm sorry, I had no idea you were sleeping here!" Lucille apologizes. Troy is so happy he could laugh.

So he does.

He lets out a half crazy laugh, ignoring the confused looks from the adults. In his arms, Gabriella looks up tiredly. Troy immediately stops laughing as oxygen is ripped from his lungs as she opens her eyes to reveal her stunning chocolate gems. She smiles up at him, and he can't help smiling back. She turns around in his arms, to take in the three adults standing awkwardly behind the couch. After a long, slightly uncomfortable silence, Gabriella finally addresses her mother, "So, mom, how was Bombay?" "Fine," Maria replies briskly, as if talking to a disliked co-worker rather than her own daughter. Hurt by her mother's cold tone, Gabriella asks no more questions. Jack and Lucille frown, disapproving of Maria's poor parenting. "We'll just let you two get some rest," Lucille murmurs quietly. Jack nods, "I'll be back, I'm just gonna drive Maria home." Lucille nods, and Jack pecks her cheek before picking up Maria's suitcase and heading back out the door, Maria following.

She doesn't turn around to say goodbye.

Troy can't see Gabriella's face, so he doesn't notice the tears streaming down her face. But Lucille does. "Oh, honey," she says, her tone sympathetic, "come here," she offers her arms. Sniffling, Gabriella shimmies out of Troy's arms and climbs out of the sleeping bag. Lucille embraces her in a motherly hug. The kind of hug that Gabriella hasn't felt in years.

"How about tomorrow, you and I go shopping? Just some girl time." Gabriella gives a watery smile at Lucille's sweet offer. "I'd like that," she whispers. Lucille nods, "Good, now you two get some rest." Gabriella wipes her tears and crawls back into the sleeping bag with Troy. He wraps his arms around her tightly, pulling her into him. Allowing her to push her face into the crook of his neck, his places a kiss on the top of her head. "I love you, Gabby," he whispers into her sweet-smelling hair.  
She doesn't reply. Troy gently pulls his head back to look at her, wondering why she hasn't returned the vow. He smiles.

She's already asleep.

The next morning, the Boltons and Gabriella are seated at the table, finishing an exceptional breakfast prepared by Lucille… and Jack, who claims he "helped," to which Lucille replies that standing and watching is not considered "helping." Troy and Gabriella laugh, and Troy can't help but feel a swell of joy in his chest. This is all he's wanted.

The smiles, the laughter.

Eating a home-made breakfast, prepared by his mother.

Watching his parents tease each other as if they were just married.

Having his girlfriend by his side, sharing his joy, adding to it.

This is what Troy wants.

A few minutes later, breakfast is finished and Lucille and Jack are clearing the dishes. As they're about to leave the kitchen, Lucille stops and turns around. "Troy, have you taken a shower?" she asks.

The blush growing on his cheeks serves as an answer.

"I was wondering what that smell was," Jack states, as he exits. Lucille shakes her head, walking off. Beside him, Gabriella makes a face, "Babe, you haven't taken a shower in like a year?" He grins sheepishly. "Ew…babe, I love you, but go take a shower," she giggles. He wags his eyebrows suggestively, "Wanna join me?" She shakes her head, smiling, "Cause I'm sure your parents would love that." He pouts, and Gabriella can't help the mental 'aw' that occurs in her mind. "Baby, it's not like we've never showered together," he whines. Gabriella giggles again, shaking her head again as he continues to reminisce, murmuring about their naughty adventures. "Hmm…do you remember last year, Taylor got you that Bath and Bodyworks gift card? Mmmm, we finished off the entire bottle of soap in one…session," he murmurs.

Now it's Gabriella's turn to blush.

He grins, encouraged by her blush, "Oooh, we used up all of the shower gels too…remember when you spilled some on my –,"

"Troy," Jack calls from down the hall, walking into the kitchen. He stops when he sees the smirk on his sons face, and the blush on Gabby's. He clears his throat awkwardly, "Uhh…your mother wants you to shower, Troy…and Gabby, she says you should get ready to go shopping." He leaves immediately, having relayed the message from Lucille. After he leaves, Gabriella looks up at Troy, "I should probably get some clothes from my house," she mutters. He frowns, grabbing both of her hands.

He doesn't want her out there, alone.

They've been working so hard, all of them, to maintain this normal-ness. They make it a point to never mention the man waiting down the street, or the past year. It's all they can do to keep panic at bay. He hesitates, wanting so badly to warn her, give her a simple 'be careful,' but afraid to destroy the ordinary life-style everyone has worked so hard to recreate.

"Be careful," he finally whispers. She nods, her face falling a bit. No one wants to be reminded of the danger lurking outside of the front door. Finally prying herself from his arms, she gently pecks his lips. "I'll be back soon," she promises. He nods, watching her disappear out the front door. He stands at the window watching her drive away as if his eyes can protect her. But when she turns the corner, he feels helpless. Dammit, he should've gone with her. But what use would he have been? He's weak, he can't fight and everyone knows it. He glances up the stairs, towards the bathroom.

The shower can wait.

He pulls a chair to the window, and waits for the return of his angel.

**Hmm…I like most of this chapter, I hope you do too! Okay, so my '5-reviews-or-more' thing worked well last time, so this time, I'm raising the bar. **_**I WANT ATLEAST 10 MORE REVIEWS FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER.**_** I know it's mean, but I feel like it's the only way to get reviews from you guys! Seriously, this story has gotten over 666 hits, but less than 20 reviews! C'mon guys! Also, if I don't update by Xmas, happy holidays!**


	5. Chapter 5 Part One

**So, I received this review telling me that this 'Elle' person had stopped reading this story because I had demanded reviews and it made me sound obnoxious. I'm sorry guys, I don't like doing it either! But I feel like it's the only way to get feedback from you guys!**

She drives slowly.

Delaying her arrival in the Ice Queen's layer.

Finally, she pulls up in her driveway. She wants to get in and out. If she meets her mother, she will feel obliged to say something. Her mother will respond in that cold, un-motherly way, like Gabriella is a stranger that Maria already disapproves of.

And it will hurt like hell.

Because Gabriella can feel it. She can feel the bond broken, she can see her mother severing it. She can feel her mother wordlessly disowning her every time she looks at her. She can feel the blame, hatred and pure disappointment in every heavy stare.

It crushes her every time.

To know that she isn't good enough for her mother. That she isn't worth her love. That Maria blames _her_ for the sudden disappearance of her father.

Everyday.  
Everyday, Gabriella wonders if this is true. Jerry and Maria had never been a lovey-dovey couple. They had tolerated each other – most of the time. But when they had fought, it had been lethal and nearly violent. In fact, they had never been an exceptionally close family, but they had had their share of smiles and laughter, things that Gabriella cherished. And when Jerry disappeared, Maria turned on her daughter. She was rarely home, and when she was, it was as if she wasn't.

Everyday, Gabriella wonders if she is truly the reason they weren't a close-knit family, like the Boltons or Danforths. Was she not cute enough? Not pretty enough? Not loveable enough to be an acceptable daughter, for them to adore?

Everyday, she wonders if she was the reason her father left. He wasn't a wonderful father, but he was nice to her. He sang on her birthday, bought her presents on Christmas. He was more of a nice, family-friend to her, rather than a father. Did he get tired of her? Was she not fun enough, not sweet enough to make him stay?

Gabriella walks slowly and quietly into her house, tip-toeing up the stairs. She glances down the hall, then darts into her room, closing the door gently. Standing in the middle of her bedroom, she looks around, surveying, remembering.

She sees the food on the bed-side table, where she fed Troy and nourished him back to health.  
Notes the First-Aid kit on the floor, which she used to heal his wounds.  
Glances at the deck, where Troy appeared and dropped back into her life.  
Gazes at the bed, where she and Troy spent their first night together in a year.

Quickly, she creeps across the hall, into the bathroom, clothes in hand. She strips quickly after shutting the door, and steps into the shower. Fifteen minutes later, she steps out of the shower, drying off and dressing quickly. She opens the door, sticking her head out to ensure that the coast is clear. Silently, she sneaks down the stairs, and out the front door. She sighs in relief as she slips into her car, carefully pulling out of the driveway. She speeds lightly on the way back, anxious to return to Troy.

Meanwhile, Troy is growing restless by the window. It's been almost a half-hour. He closes his eyes, trying to keep panic at bay.

Tell himself other, more likely possibilities.

Maybe her mother was there, and Gabriella was pulled into an uncomfortable conversation.

Maybe she couldn't find clean clothes, and was currently running laundry.

Maybe Emerson had been waiting in the bushes-

He sucks in a ragged breath, attempting to calm himself, to shake away this nightmarish possibility.

"Troy," his mother's voice breaks him from his disturbing thoughts, "Have you showered y-," she stops short, taking in Troy's position. He is hunched over on a chair by the window, his hands clasped tightly together, his eyes squeezed shut, as if stuck in a nightmare he doesn't want to be caught in. "Troy, honey, are you okay?" her voice is laced with concern, and a thousand thoughts fly through her head.

What if the conditions he was kept in for the past year had an after-affect, and he was still sick?  
What if the police called while she was upstairs, with bad news concerning Emerson?

He opens his eyes slowly, and his tone is full of worry, "She hasn't come back," he murmurs quietly, his voice rough. Suddenly, a faint growl tears his gaze back outside the window. Lucille watches as her sons face lights up at the sight of Gabriella's car. Troy runs out the door to meet her in the driveway. Gabriella steps out and is immediately engulfed in Troy's arms. He breathes in the scent of her hair, freshly shampooed. "I was worried," he mumbles quietly. She looks up at him, "Sorry," she replies apologetically. He shrugs, takes her hand and leads her back into the house.

_**Guys: Thanks so much for the reviews! It really means a lot to me. So, I'm not quite satisfied with this chapter, it's not my best and it's pretty short. But I have a valid reason! I'm really sick, I have no idea what it is, so this chapter wasn't written as well as I wanted. I'll post a part two soon! I just thought you guys deserved this to prove to you that I did write a chapter in response to your reviews. Thanks for stickin' with me! Part two will be up soon, and it will be better than this one! Review!**_


	6. Chapter 5 Part Two

**I own nothing.**

Troy had never been so content in his life. Never had he been this happy, this satisfied.

At least, not that he could remember.

Currently, he was seated on the soft carpet in Sharpay's basement, leaning back against the massive couch, his legs outstretched. Gabriella was seated comfortably between his legs, giggling at something Chad had said (although he hadn't intended it to be funny). Troy, Gabriella, Sharpay, Taylor, Chad and Zeke were situated in the comfy (and huge) basement in the Evans mansion. The room was dimly lit and warm – the atmosphere perfect for the friends to reconnect.

The hours earlier had been spent shaking and sobbing as the friends were reunited with Troy, and he recounted his terrible story. But now, the friends were happy to simply bask in the feeling of being together, and the fact that Emerson Bond could be anywhere is the last thing on their minds. The board games and playing cards have been pushed to the side, along with the soft drinks and empty bags of popcorn. All six teens are wearing comfortable pajamas and the sleeping bags were in the corner of the luxurious room.

The Evans parents are in England with Ryan, so the teens have the mansion all to themselves. What better night to have a sleepover?

The sound of his girlfriend's laughter rings in Troy's ears, making him smile. And yet, he isn't paying one bit of attention to what's going on. He has no idea what Sharpay is telling Taylor as she rolls her eyes, or what Chad and Zeke are muttering about, or what Gabby finds so amusing. He doesn't hear the quiet drone of the movie that's playing in the background, nor does he take note of the new, fancy-smancy installations to the already extremely expensive basement that could only belong to the Evans family.

All he can think about is how _happy_ he feels.

And that is a very, very welcome feeling.

"Troy?" Gabriella's sweet voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?" he looks down at her. She asks him if he would like anything to drink, and he shakes his head no. Gabriella nestles back against him and he tightens his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair.

* * *

He peers into the window of the Bolton's house. The lights are off, except for the lights in the parent's bedroom. Troy is not home.

That's okay.

He will wait.

He will find him.

And he will get his revenge.

* * *

Dear god, she has to be drunk. It can't be possible to feel this happy naturally.

But clearly, it is.

Gabriella nestles back against Troy, her eyes fixed on the television screen in front of her. But she's not really paying attention to the sappy lines or romantic exchanges in the movie. It's been a long time since she's felt so safe, so loved, so warm.

Like everything is okay.

Everything is not okay, of course, but for now, she can pretend. She tilts her head up to look at Troy. He has a distant look in her eyes, but this doesn't concern her.

His eyes are sparkling.

She thinks she could die right now from all of this happiness. She's bathed in warmth and laughter and love and she's practically drowning in it.

* * *

He knows the location of all Troy's friends.

He has given _pre-meditated_ a whole new meaning.

First stop: Danforth's house.

He pushes the dagger deeper into his pocket, keeping his hand on the hilt for comfort.

He's always liked knives and blades much better than guns. Guns are no fun. Guns are too quick. With guns, there's no crying, no screaming, no begging. Just death.

And where's the fun in that?

He approaches the large brick house that belongs to the Danforth family. They are having family friends over for dinner, it appears. But none of the cars in the driveway belong to any of the teenagers.

He hears the distant rumble of an engine. It's the police car making its rounds through the neighborhood. Searching for him. He grins.

Darts behind a tree and waits for it to pass.  
He laughs when it's gone.

This is too fucking easy.

* * *

The sleeping bags have been laid out, scattered around the lush carpet. The TV is off, and the only light comes from the moon, shining through the massive floor-to-ceiling window. The Evan's backyard is more of a state park, the trees of the forest swaying gently with the wind.

Troy lies in his sleeping bag, watching Gabriella as she sits with Taylor and Sharpay, discussing the movie.  
She is sweet and beautiful. He smiles, because she is also his.

She knows he's watching her. She can hear the murmur of his conversation with Chad and Zeke, but she can also feel his eyes on her. She shudders. She loves the tingly feeling of knowing he's watching her. She sneaks a glance at him, and he catches her.

She smiles shyly and he chuckles, turning back to his friends.

He can feel her eyes on him. He shudders.

He hears her snicker.

* * *

He's been to three houses now. He's getting pissed. This little game is getting tiring. He sits on Gabriella's balcony. He stares into her bedroom. It's empty. Through her open door, he can see a light shining down the hall from her mother's room. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a tiny razor and shoves into the lock of the balcony doors.

Click.

He opens the door and steps into Gabriella's room, looking around him.

So this is the famous Gabriella Montez.

After casually going through her personal belongings and taking a few bras and panties, he steps into the hall and heads towards her Maria's room. The door is open and light is leaking out. She is sitting on her bed, staring hard at her laptop.

She doesn't notice the man with the knife standing a few feet away from her.

He clears his throat.

She whips her head up, her eyes wide.

He smiles and holds up his jagged knife, his favorite way of introducing himself.

He calmly walks over to her, where she is frozen with fear.  
Looks her in the eye.  
Covers her mouth with his hand so no one will hear her screams.

When he is finished ten minutes later, he exits her bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He strides back into Gabriella's room, and sits down on her bed.

Hm. Comfortable.

He pulls out his knife – now covered in Maria's blood- and wipes the excess blood onto Gabriella's blankets.

He wants to leave a message for this Montez girl.

He stands up and heads for the balcony doors.

He stops when he sees the laptop on her desk.  
And more importantly, the webcam on the laptop.

He smiles as an idea comes to him.

He presses a button and the screen surges to life. He clicks on the webcam icon, and waits to see his own image on her screen. When he does, he takes his time, taking several pictures of himself. Some glaring, some leering, some smiling. Then he goes through the photos and selects his favorite. He double clicks to make it her desktop background.

He pauses to imagine her reaction the next time she opens her laptop.

He decides that he has time to kill. He goes back to the laptop, going through her webcam pictures that she had taken herself. Some are just of her, some she has taken with her friends. He feels his pants tighten. Feels himself grow hard just looking at her.

He wants her.

He continues flicking through the pictures until he lands on one. She's staring at the camera, a coy smile on her lips. She's wearing a tight tank top. And none other than Troy fucking Bolton is behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder. The next ten pictures are just of Troy and Gabriella, hugging, kissing, making faces at each other.

It's sick.

He gets up abruptly and leaves, leaving the balcony doors wide open.

He'll be back.

**I know.**

**This is way overdue.**

**Way, way, way overdue. You can hate me. Frankly, I would too.**

**What can I say though? School comes first, then sports, then friends. You know how it is.**

**I am terribly sorry for the wait. I hope I haven't lost too many readers.**

**Please review to let me know if it's worth continuing.**


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